Son of Azog
by Lianne Yoffa
Summary: Twelve, not thirteen dwarves are joined by Bilbo. One is missing, taken and killed in an orc raid long ago. Or was he? Azog doesn't quite know why he did it, but sparing the one dwarfling seemed a good idea. Now, the dwarf has become a fierce warrior for his 'father', and Azog is pleased. Beginning inspired by Prince of Orcs by LittleJerseyanNinja. Some angst in later chapters
1. Chapter 1

**I got this idea when I read Prince of Orcs by LittleJerseyanNinja, so the beginning is almost the same, although the rest of the story hopefully won't be too similar.**

Azog loved how the dwarves fled in terror from his followers. Their screams were sweeter than any music, their terror almost tangible. He was still unable to fight properly, but his arm was healing, and his hand's 'replacement' had stuck firmly and only added to his overall fearsome appearance.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw one younger dwarfling that stood out from the rest. He had been separated from a group of women and children who were defended by tough, fierce dwarf warriors. Instead of running and screaming when the wargs bore down on him, the young one pulled out a tiny bow that was little more than a toy, and tried to fight.

"**Leave the small one**!" Azog shouted in the black speech, "**Go for the fighters**!" the wargs hesitantly left the dwarfling and joined in with fighting the grown ones. The axe wielders managed to hold them off, however, and plenty of the dwarves got away safely.

Azog had meant for them all to die, but a little less than a third of his intended victims had escaped. He looked around angrily for one of his less needed followers to take his anger out on, but his eyes instead landed on the same dwarfling from before, who had climbed up a small tree in an effort to get away from one particular warg which was currently waiting in a tensed position for an opportunity to attack. The pale orc came forward and kicked the beast out of his way, a seedling of a plan coming into his mind. He looked up at the child who couldn't have been more than four years of age.

The little one looked very frightened, but when he saw Azog it faded a little. The only reason the orc could imagine as to why, is that the dwarf had seen that only after Azog's shout did the wargs stop attacking, and thought that the orc was not quite so much a bad guy as the warg that had been trying to get at him. That fit in well with his still forming plan.

"Come down, young one," he said in the common tongue.

"Bu' I don' wanno! It scawy!" the child was clearly still frightened.

"If you get down now, no one will hurt you," Azog tried to sound reassuring. It seemed to work, though, when the dwarfling slowly and warily climbed down to the ground and looked up at the orc, who crouched so as to be nearer the child's eye level, "Very good. Now, what is your name?"

"K-ki-li. I'm Kili," the dwarfling corrected himself when his first attempt came out stuttered.

"Come with me, Kili," Azog stood and walked toward where his orcs and wargs were attempting to pair up so they could ride out. He spotted a scrawnier orc astride a much smaller than average warg, and killed the rider before lifting Kili by the collar into the animal's saddle. He instructed the warg not to let the child fall, and not to stray too far from his own mount. They rode out with the dwarfling and Azog side by side.

**Please review! Reviews tell me exactly how terrible it is so I know just how badly I need to fix it and where.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, so, I got like half a trillion follows on the first chapter, and one review, so now I am utterly committed to finishing this. This chapter is filler to show a little bit of Kili's time with the orcs._

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It took a while for the young dwarf to get accustomed to living in an orc pack. He stuck close to Azog as much as he could, because all the other orcs taunted him and tried to make him fight them. Azog realised this eventually and made the child stand up to them. It wouldn't do to have the adopted son of an orc leader to be weak. Kili lost the first few fights he was forced to participate in, gaining impressive injuries that he miraculously managed to get over.

Once, after a raid, he was permitted to sift through the plunder for a weapon he liked. He found a bow and a matching quiver, but the arrows were broken so he had to make his own. Another time, one of the orcs was killed in a squabble over something unimportant yet apparently infuriating, and Kili jumped in quickly enough to claim the dead one's sword. It had been taken from a dwarf warrior in a battle long ago, and it suited its new master perfectly. He also acquired plenty of throwing knives and daggers, which he wasn't all that good with but were useful anyhow.

Now that he was equipped, his chances of winning in any fight were much higher. His first chance to prove this was a time when they'd obtained two large barrels of wine from a merchant's caravan. He had forced through to the front of what could be called a line, in the loosest definition of the term, and was filling up a large pint when someone shoved him from the side, spilling it all over the orcs behind him. He angrily faced the offender, a larger orc with a bald head and a missing nose.

The orc looked down at him, "**Outta my way, **_**dwarf**_**,**"

Kili glared right back, "**No,**" he turned away as though the matter was settled, and began to get a refill.

The orc pushed him away roughly, and the dwarf fell to the ground. He immediately bounced back and headbutted his opponent in the stomach. The orc wasn't wearing any armor there, so the wind was knocked out of him. Kili went on the offensive and went to drive his fist into his opponent's face, but the orc caught his wrist. With no hesitation, Kili's other hand drew a random dagger and whipped up to give the orc a deep cut on the offending forearm, practically severing it. The orc collapsed and clutched his injury before looking at Kili with something akin to fear and running off. A cheer went up and Kili finally got to taste the wine. He noticed Azog in the background looking on with approval.

The orc lost the arm and died a few days later.

The next time he won one of these matches, it was against a warg. The animal had gotten some sort of disease that made it attack anything it saw, and Kili just happened to be in its way as it barreled down a hill toward the orcs' camp. It knocked him over and was about to bite at him, when it suddenly found that it no longer had a head. He wiped his bloody sword off on his leg, sheathed it, and went on as though nothing had happened.

He had realised a while ago that the little fights the orcs had with eachother over seemingly unimportant things were a part of their ranking system. You picked a fight with someone and whoever came out on top gained respect. Whoever came out on bottom usually died, but otherwise was pretty much the lowest in the pecking order. Kili was right up there next to and just below Azog according to the as now, years later, he had bested many of the stronger orc fighters who tried to mess with him, gaining the respect, or more accurately, fear, of all the rest.

He was about 77 years of age, when the news first came to Azog. Thorin Oakenshield was going on some fool's quest, meaning he would be traveling out in the open, where the orcs would be able to easily take him and his companions. Azog sent out scouting parties to pinpoint the exact location so he would know where they were when he ordered an attack. The word came much faster than most would have bet.

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_Just so you know, no, that was not a horrible attempt at a cliffhanger. I was considering making one, but there are always the chapters where you just can't add one and retain the sensibleness of the story._

_Language ques:_

"**Bold font,**" is the Black Speech of the orcs.

"Normal font," is Westron, or the common tongue.

_As always, review! I love reviews!_


	3. Chapter 3

"**The dwarves have been spotted**," an orc said as he rushed into their camp, "**We've found them!**" he paused uncertainly when no one reacted for a few seconds.

The dwarf who Azog called his son stood and swiftly approached their leader's tent, set farther back than the rest. He emerged after a minute and addressed the orcs, "**Azog orders you to ride out immediately! Catch them, kill them, and bring back only the leader, or his head!**"

This earned excited shouts and cheers, and a mad dash to the wargs. Only about half the wargs actually had riders on them, the rest went alone and would serve mainly as scouts until they caught up to the dwarves. Kili went to his own warg, a light gray one that he was pretty sure was a descendant of Azog's own white one, and mounted. He was to lead the orc pack in the attack, and personally carry back the head of Thorin Oakenshield.

The dwarves had just gotten over Radagast's unexpected appearance when they heard growling. A warg leapt out at them only to be struck down immediately by one of Fili's swords.

"Who did you tell of your quest, outside of your kin?" Gandalf asked Thorin accusingly.

"No one," Thorin said.

"Who did you tell?" Gandalf wasn't letting the dwarf off too easily.

"No one, I swear!" Thorin insisted.

Fili witnessed their quick exchange and how Radagast jumped in, insisting that he could draw the orcs off. In a flash the brown wizard was off on his crazy Rhosgobel rabbit sled, taunting the warg riders behind him and taking every wild turn that presented itself. The dwarves tried to evade them as well while at the same time going where Gandalf directed them. Thorin appeared to be suspicious about where they were headed, but never had enough time to get out a proper argument.

Kili saw one particular warg rider who was letting his mount sniff around on top of a certain cluster of boulders. He was astride his own warg, observing the chase and looking for where the actual dwarves were. Perhaps that single orc had their scent, he thought as he watched. Suddenly both warg and orc fell out of his sight and he heard the screeches of the dying orc. So the dwarves were there! Or, at least, one of them.

"**Leave the wizard! I've found the dwarves!**" he shouted to the orcs as his mount jumped down and ran towards the spot where the lone orc had fallen. Surely enough, fourteen short figures could be seen running away, led by one taller figure in gray. So Gandalf the Gray was indeed traveling with the band of dwarves. Suddenly, by trick of the eye or whatnot, the gray figure was gone. Kili smirked. So the wizard had abandoned them.

He arrived at the scene in the middle of the attack and whipped out his bow. His warg held steady so he could take aim, and he fired at the one he assumed would be Thorin Oakenshield.. The exiled king blocked the arrow with his sword at the last moment, however, so the shot was wasted. Growling, Kili took another shot, this time at the blond one who he'd been told was Thorin's heir. The dwarf turned as he shot and it hit him in the arm, instead of the heart.

The wizard reappeared from seemingly nowhere and called to the dwarves, who all made their way to him. They all began disappearing down a hidden shaft in the rocks, and Kili couldn't get a good shot on any of them. The wounded blond one was slower, and the one who was assumed to be Thorin waited for him to get in before going down himself.

Kili was about to run down and go in after them, but he heard an elf hunting horn and instantly turned and rode away. He noticed maybe two or three others that also managed to escape the elves and they all grouped closer together once they were a safe distance. If the dwarf knew one thing, Azog would not be pleased.

"Thorin, wait," Fili pulled his uncle aside as the company  
navigated through Gandalf's secret little tunnel thing toward Rivendell.

"What is it?"

"When we were being attacked just now, I- I thought I saw . . . someone," he began hesitantly, "Not an orc, but . . ."

"What? Who were they?" Thorin knew that any information he could get of who hunted them was a good thing to have.

"A dwarf, but he looked familiar somehow," Fili couldn't think of where he would have seen someone like that before, but they just looked so familiar that he either knew them or had had one seriously major deja vu moment.

"How familiar? Where have you seen him before?" Thorin spoke in a softer tone, so that the others wouldn't hear.

"I don't know, I can't remember," something suddenly clicked in Fili's mind. He didn't think he'd ever seen that particular dwarf before, but he had seemed very similar to someone he knew, "Thorin," his tone became very serious, "He looked a lot like . . . you. I couldn't see his face from so far off, but his hair, his build, the way he carried himself, it reminded me of you. Well, not you, but . . . people of the Durin line in general." the young dwarf hadn't met many of the line of Durin, and certainly no one as directly descended from him as Thorin, but everyone who was related to them had this air about them, like their very existence was telling you who their ancestor was.

Thorin looked very troubled by this, "Don't tell anyone until I've found out who this dwarf is who dares to fight with orcs as his companions. I can't think of anyone in Durin's line, let alone remotely related to us, who would ever commit such a crime. Perhaps if I give it more thought something will turn up . . . Fili, are you all right?" Thorin suddenly became concerned, as his nephew had collapsed against the rock wall, breathing hard and clutching his arm where the arrow had been. Oin had gotten it out and bandaged the wound, but that did not mean it no longer hurt.

"I'm fine," Fili grunted, "Let's just- catch up," he was breathing hard. He barely registered Thorin's look of concern as they hurried to catch up to the rest of the company. He began to feel very light-headed, but didn't let on, walking toward the back of the group so as to not draw the others' attention and worry. He knew when they'd reached Rivendell, but honestly didn't pay much attention as it took all of his concentration just to stand up while keeping up a sort of normal appearance. He noticed that at one point everyone took out their weapons and horses came, then someone spoke and a few moments later they were ushered inside.

He was lagging behind, and Thorin was busy up in the front of their group arguing with Gandalf. The rest of the dwarves were chatting or salivating at the prospect of food, so no one really noticed when he decided to take a short rest and lean against the wall. He didn't notice that time had passed, but when he looked around he didn't see any of the company, just two concerned looking elf women coming from the direction the others had been heading.

"Are you alright, Master Dwarf?" said one who had honey colored hair as the two approached.

Fili tried to stand back up from his leaning position, but couldn't. He realised that he was not going to have much success talking, either, if he didn't want to lose his lunch. In response to the elf, he shook his head once.

She exchanged an even more concerned glance with her darker haired companion, and came forward to his left side while the other went to his right. They helped him come away from the wall, noting that he did not resist their touch, which was not a good sign at all. After another, even _more_ concerned shared look with her friend, the dark haired one said, "We will take you to a room where we can heal you, if that is all right?"

Fili nodded yes, and the two elves led him gently down the hall toward one of their guest rooms. How long it took and exactly how they got him into the room's bed, was all fuzzy to him. The last thing he knew before falling unconscious was that the elves had uncovered his wounded arm and said something about 'poisoned'.

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_Hi people! Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites! I actually do look at the numbers, you know. So, here's the next installment in my story, I hope it was appreciated by you lovely readers! Please do review so that I know what's good that I should keep doing, what's terrible that I should edit out, and what's just kinda 'eeh' that I can improve! _

More language ques:

"_Italics_," is Elvish.

_Again, (and I know this may be getting old for you by now) review!_


	4. Chapter 4

Elrond had just told Thorin and Gandalf about their newly acquired swords, and the exiled king was admittedly pleased with what he'd learned about his. However, something seemed off to him about the dwarves around the dinner table. None of them were acting different, but something was missing . . . no, not something, someone. Fili.

Trying to remain casual, he leaned over and said to Gandalf, "Have you seen where Fili went?"

The wizard looked at him with raised eyebrows, "No, I assumed that you knew where he was,"

"What is wrong?" Lord Elrond asked them.

"My nephew is not present," Thorin said, "Have any of your elves seen him?"

"Hmm, I do not know," he turned, beckoned a random elf over, and said in Elvish, "_Eiyren, could you go search for the missing dwarf? I fear our guest is becoming worried,_"

"_Of course,_" she answered with a bow of her head. She turned and went down a corridor. Only a few moments later, she came back, this time accompanied by a male elf, and said, "_My lord Elrond, the dwarf is injured, he has been taken to a healing room_,"

The male elf added, "_Erendith and Nelyerii are taking care of him, and they tell me he has been shot through the arm by a poisoned arrow. They believe we have caught it in time, though, and there should be no lasting effects._"

"_Very good, thank you for telling me_," Elrond said. He turned back to Thorin, "He is in a healing ward. Apparently his arm was pierced by a poisoned arrow,"

"It was poisoned? Oin could not detect any poison when he treated it," Thorin said.

He was going to say more when the female elf, Eiyren, said, "It was a clever toxin, designed to stay relatively dormant at first, and hit hard after about an hour has passed. It can only really be detected about twenty, perhaps thirty minutes after it initially enters someone's blood stream. You're lucky we caught it when we did, had it been too much later, he may not have lived to see tomorrow,"

"Thank you," Thorin said grudgingly, "Would someone mind taking me to him?"

"Of course," Eiyren said, turning and beginning to glide back down the hallway she'd just emerged from, pausing long enough for the dwarf to get out of his seat and catch up to her.

Kili approached the section of Weathertop that Azog was currently residing in. He waited for the orc accompanying him to speak first. He knew his adoptive father liked to kill the weak ones before hearing from his favored ones. The orc said stuff about how they lost the dwarves because they were ambushed by elves, and how he'd barely escaped with his life.

Azog came very close to the orc, "**Better you had . . . paid with it**," he said as he killed him and tossed the body to the wargs. He now addressed Kili, "**And what happened with you?**"

Kili had prepared what he would say in his mind on the way there. Azog liked for him to give his explanations without excuses for anything failed. Excuses were one of the things the pale orc hated about when the inferior orcs reported back to him. "**I only got in two shots before the cowards went down a passage in the rocks. Elves came and killed most of the wargs and riders. The survivors all deserted. I would have stayed to fight, but I couldn't take them alone**," the dwarf said. He paused before adding, "**The two shots I did manage, one was blocked but the other hit. Not in the heart, but in the arm. It was one of my poisoned arrows, so unless they got to their elf friends in less than half an hour, one of the dwarves will not be waking up tomorrow.**" he smirked as he said the last part.

Azog gave a small, vicious grin, "**So you felled one of Thorin Oakenshield's company?**"

"**I believe so**," Kili said, then looked down with a bit of shame, "**But I can't promise that he didn't reach the elves' healers on time. At the very least, the one I hit will be weaker, even after he has healed. He will be a much easier target next time**."

"**I am disappointed that you couldn't kill at least one dwarf, even with a pack of wargs at your side**," the way the pale orc said this told Kili that his 'father' had less pride in him than prior to the failed hunt.

"**I will not fail you again, Father,**" Kili said, sounding determined, "**I will make you proud**,"

Azog said no more, instead just returning to his section of the ruins and giving orders to one of his higher ranking underlings.

Kili went to the spot he had claimed and stooped into his tent, angrily beginning to sharpen his sword and otherwise inspect and maintain his weaponry. Those accursed dwarves. _They_ did this, it was all _their _fault! Because of them, his adoptive father's pride in him had diminished, and he had to get it back. As he carefully reapplied the toxins to his arrowheads, he swore he would get vengeance on the one who he had hit, if the dwarf hadn't already died of the poison.

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_So, I hope you all enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, review!_


	5. Chapter 5

Fili didn't know where he was, but he knew he wasn't awake. That was for sure. When he was awake he was always in control of himself. At least, he thought he was. Now, though, he wasn't doing things as he wanted to do them, he just seemed to be observing his body through his own eyes, but with no ability to influence what he did. Maybe he was dreaming? That would fit, as he was asleep. At least, he was pretty sure he was asleep. But it didn't seem to be a dream . . . maybe . . . A memory! Yes, a memory. He was re-living a memory.

_Young Fili was running beside his brother. Only a few minutes ago, they had been playing a pretend battle against imaginary orcs, but to their terror and surprise, _real _orcs had suddenly jumped from the trees and attacked them. They had run back to their mother, who had brought them to a group of women and children huddling inside a protective circle of warriors. _

Oh, no, not this dream. Fili hated reliving this one. Any other memory, he could handle, but this one. Not seeing his brother die.

_The huddle had been moving, running away from the thick of the battle while protected by the fighters, and Fili had been keeping track of his baby brother by maintaining a death grip on his hand. But one stumble was all it took and now he didn't know where his brother was. He ran through the group shouting his name, and thought he heard a response at one point, but it could have just been the wind, or an orc's battle cry. He didn't know where his mother was, either, so he didn't have anyone to keep close to. _

The dream got fuzzy for a moment, and he thought he heard someone very far away saying his name, but then the memory returned with a sharp clarity.

_Off in the distance, young Fili saw a group of wargs surrounding a small, dark haired figure. He didn't dare think that it was his brother. However, when the small dwarf pulled out his little bow and an arrow that was little more than a blunt stick with feathers, the truth couldn't be denied. Only his brother would do something like that, instead of running like any sane person. Fili wanted to shout for him, but then he saw a warg pounce. He looked away, and saw that the little huddle had merged with another one, and the circle of warriors now included his uncle. _

"_Uncle! Uncle Thorin!" he cried, and the exiled king turned to spot him. _

"_Fili, get away from the fighting!" Thorin said, as he beheaded an orc who was attacking a dwarf from behind. _

"_But Uncle! It's Kili!" Thorin didn't seem to hear this, though. He shouted for everyone to flee, and flee they did. When Fili tried to run out to where he'd seen his brother being attacked, Thorin ran past him, taking his arm and dragging him along. They ran until they were safe, and only then did Fili hear the news that his mother had also been killed. When he told his uncle about his brother, both were enveloped in grief. Fili, however, followed his uncle's example and pushed the emotion away. Over time, it disappeared, replaced by a simmering hatred for orcs. _

Again, Fili heard someone calling his name, and it sounded strangely like his mother. His headache started to fade and his mind was wrapped in light. He thought he saw her standing in front of him, and he tried to walk forward to embrace her, but his feet stuck. She got a sad look on her face and waved goodbye.

Her voice was still there, but it gradually got deeper until it wasn't his mother, but his uncle, asking him to wake up. The headache came back with a vengeance, and he felt cold. He couldn't feel his arm, either, or open his eyes.

"Fili? Are you awake?" Thorin said, sounded immensely worried.

"M'wake . . ." Fili mumbled.

"How do you feel?" this voice was more high pitched and melodic.

"Like . . . a pack . . . of wargs . . . ran over me . . ." Fili got out, trying to make it sound humorous. He squinted his eyes open slightly, and saw his uncle leaning over him, along with a dark haired elf woman.

"Can you feel your arm?" the elf asked, with the tone of a doctor checking on her patient, which, of course, she was, "Do you feel unnaturally warm or cold?"

"Can't . . . feel my arm . . . I'm . . . cold . . ." Fili responded, trying to form a complete sentence.

She got a worried look on her face, and went out of the dwarf's view, presumably going through some medical things st her side. Fili was left with his uncle's face the only thing in view. He knew there was something important that he needed to tell him . . . oh, yeah. The dream. "Uncle . . . I had . . . a dream . . . about . . . K-"he was overtaken by a sudden fit of coughing, not violent but bad enough that it took away all of his already limited breath. When it subsided he breathed heavily, gasping for air.

Thorin looked at the elf woman, concern for his nephew written all over his face, "What's wrong now?"

She came back into Fili's view, putting a hand on his forehead and whispering something in Elvish that made his breath calmer. She then said, "It's just another stage of recovery, his body's trying to get rid of things that aren't there. It would be a bad thing any other time, but this poison is unique, as is the recovery process." She pulled the blankets away from Fili's left side, exposing his injured arm, and dipped two fingers in an open jar of salve. She dabbed it onto his bare skin, and tingles exploded from wherever she made contact. His arm suddenly exploded in pain, and he cried out.

Thorin jumped to his feet, "What are you doing to him?" he said accusingly.

"I'm . . . fine, Uncle . . ." Fili said through grit teeth, failing to reassure his uncle.

Calmly, the elf replied, "He couldn't feel his arm, which meant that his nerves were not working properly. I have to make sure the whole arm is in the right condition, otherwise we risk the unpleasant path of amputation. I am sure young Master Fili would like to keep both his arms,"

"I like . . . my two arms . . . don't want . . . to just have . . . the one . . ." Fili said, again making the attempt at a joke, although it was ruined by his pained tone and inability to form the full sentence.

"Then I am sorry to inform you that it will hurt much more before it can finish healing," the elf said as she applied more of the salve. It burned like fire, but Fili sucked it up and tried not to show the pain in front of his uncle.

After rubbing the goop all over his arm and into his skin, the elf wrapped white bandages around it and replaced the blankets. "Don't move the arm," she ordered, "If it gets itchy don't scratch it, just have someone inform either myself or my assistant Erendith. Same for if you lose feeling again, start coughing, or become unexplainably lightheaded." she stood up to leave.

"Wait . . ." Fili said, "Where are . . . you going?" he liked the elf woman's presence, she had this . . . aura about her that seemed to make him feel like he was healing more quickly, like he didn't have to worry about his wound, like he was surrounded by this air of cleanliness and purity.

"I must inform my lord Elrond of your condition, as he appreciates knowing how the people in the healing rooms fare," she said, aware of the feeling she, as an elven healer, brought to the sick. She never liked leaving her patients for long, which was one reason why she'd gotten Erendith to help, so one of them could stay and monitor whoever they were tending to, and the other could go about doing errands. Before either of the dwarves could say anything else, she swept out of the room.

Thorin and his nephew lapsed into a comfortable silence. Well, silent except for Fili's occasional sound of pain when he unthinkingly tried to move his arm. After a while, the door cracked open, and an elf with hair the brownish amber of honey came in. She was carrying a small basket with fresh bandages, and took the place her dark haired friend had been sitting in.

She got no reaction from either of the dwarves, because both had dozed off. She didn't want to interrupt the sleep of either, but the company of dwarves was missing their leader. She woke Thorin with a few taps on the shoulder, and he jolted upright in his chair.

He looked around, startled, before remembering where he was and noticing the elf. "What do you want?" he said, wishing the members of that particular race would just leave him alone for once.

"Your company wants for your presence," she said, "And Lord Elrond would like to speak with you privately, at your convenience,"

Grumbling, Thorin stood up. He gestured at Fili, "You won't let anything happen to him?"

"Of course, and I will notify you if he wakes up and asks for you," the elf said, reading his next request on his expression.

With a few more assurances that Fili would be well cared for, Thorin left the room to go tell his companions where he'd been and why.

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I hope you enjoyed that! Sorry about the short length and lack of Kili appearance, I'm running out of typing time what with school and sudden responsibilities now that I'm a year older (did I mention that it was my birthday recently?). Not to mention my swiftly emptying can of inspiration . . .

If any of you want to help refill my inspiration, tell me your ideas in a PM or a review!

REVIEW! There will be a day when I quit asking for reviews, but it is not this day! There will be a day when I no longer care to ask for feedback, but it is not this day! So review!


	6. Chapter 6

_I'd like to apologise in advance for the shortness of this chappie! I just felt like I'd give you people what I've got so far. I'm really not sure about this chapter, I don't think it's anywhere near being my best work . . . Anywho, enough of me, you want to hear the story!_

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"**The dwarves will have to cross the Misty Mountains through the goblins' pass. If we can get the goblins to help, catching them will be easy**," Kili suggested.

"V**ery good**," Azog said. His 'son' was riding by his side as they traveled toward the mountain pass. The plan had originally been to get to the other side and set up an ambush, but then Kili and his scouting party had come back with the news that the goblins had moved their entrance to the path that travelers were taking more often. It was currently the only accessible way across the mountains. "**Perhaps **_**this**_** time, you won't disgrace yourself**," the pale orc continued.

"**It won't happen again**," Kili growled, angry at himself, not his 'father'. He had been dealing with the ridicule of the other orcs ever since the failed attack on Thorin Oakenshield. He had put up with it, to a point, until one of them had suggested that he go join the dwarves if he wasn't going to kill any of them. After all, they were his _kin_. Needless to say, that particular orc was never again seen alive.

When the pack got to the pass, the main body camped at the entrance, and they sent Kili with his scouts ahead to contact the goblins. The path was treacherous at points, but the weather was fine and they made it to the goblins in a little over a day.

They found the cave that was now the goblins' 'doorstep', and waited. And waited some more. And waited a bit longer.

Finally, Kili got so frustrated with them that he shouted, "**Come on, you stupid goblins! We haven't got all day! I need to speak with the Great Goblin on behalf of Azog the Defiler!**" he didn't honestly expect that to get much of a reaction. In fact, he was beginning to suspect that the had the wrong cave, and the goblins' doorstep was somewhere else altogether. Then, however, he heard a loud _crack! _

About ten goblins poured out of an opening in the back wall. The tallest, biggest one -who appeared to be the leader- stepped forward and said, "Messengers from Azog?" in a gravelly voice.

Kili switched to the common tongue , "_Messengers_? I am no mere messenger," he was about to launch into a very rude explanation of exactly who he was, but decided instead to get down to business instead, "I must see the Great Goblin immediately."

The goblin sneered, "Not just anyone can see the Great Goblin, _Dwarf,_" he must have thought that Kili was one of those corrupt dwarves who worked alongside the more foul races. He did work alongside orcs, but unlike the corrupt dwarves, counted himself among their ranks.

"Let me put it this way," Kili unsheathed his sword, knocked the goblin down, and put the edge of his blade at it's throat in one smooth movement, "Take me to see the Great Goblin, or I'll have your head, and Azog will have the pleasure of teaching you pitiful goblins a very painful lesson."

The rest of the goblins seemed unsure as to whether they should be glad that the higher ranking goblin was about to be killed, -and that one of them would take his place soon after- or if they should go for their weapons in case a fight broke out. Most did both of these things, considering that the dwarf had not insulted just the one, but the whole goblin race.

The lead goblin, panicking held holding completely still, said, "What's your business with His Malevolence?"

"That's better," Kili said, "I'm here with a . . . proposition. From my fa-" he cleared his throat, then corrected himself, "Azog. It is in the Great Goblin's interest to accept,"

"I will take your proposition-" the lead goblin was cut off when Kili removed his blade to kick the creature in the head, hard.

"Wrong! You will take me, and these," he jabbed a thumb at the group of orcs accompanying him, "To personally speak with the Great Goblin. That, or I'll tell Azog that you didn't accept, and we'll have to do the mountain the favor of removing you * goblins from it."

_*((A/N: The '__' is standing in place of a very terrible insult in the orc language, which I refrain from writing because I do not like vulgarity. I did feel the need to make Kili's dislike for these rude goblins show, though, so I just thought I'd make sure you readers at least sort of understood what he said right there.))_

When he said this, the group of goblins growled and brandished their weapons. Who dared to insult them like that? Who did this dwarf think he was? And why did he think that Azog the Defiler would listen to him?

Kili continued, "I'm sure my father would appreciate the opportunity, but wouldn't you rather we made a deal with the Great Goblin and avoid it?" he put his sword back in it's sheath and gave the lead goblin an expectant look.

Rubbing his throat and marveling that it was still attached, the goblin stood back up. He seemed to think for a moment, then cautiously said, "I will take you to the Great Goblin,"

* * *

_OKAY! I haves a question for you readers! Do you want me to alternate between characters by only focusing on character one per chapter, or do you want chapters to have one half for the good guys and the other half for the bad guys? The half and half ones will take more time, but will be much longer, while the one-per ones will be much shorter but come out faster. I'm facing indecision! Please help! _

_Also, if any of you have any thoughts or ideas that you may want to see or think will happen in this story, please tell them to me! My creative juice is being used up in all my school papers and a sci-fi novel I'm writing! If you could help add some to use for this fic, I'd appreciate it. _

_As always, REVIEW!_


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